The Haunting

The whiteness of the soft asylum walls is blinding. I sit in the back corner of the padded room, rocking on my tail bone with my knees to my chest. My eyes stare into the opposite corner as if something else is in the empty room with me. The florescent lights buzz overhead, occasionally flickering. The straight jacket is too tight and my shoulders ache with the strain. The rough canvas scratches my skin whenever I move. A strand of hair falls in front of my face but I can't move it away. I hear a scream come from another cell down the hall. The shrillness sends shivers down my spine. I don't belong here. Here, here is where they keep the insane who are a harm to themselves and others. I am no murderer. I didn't do it! They did! Closing my eyes, I try to erase the haunting images that seem to be playing in front of me.

The sun streams into the kitchen. The light mauve walls greet me, happily brightened by the sun coming through the large window above the sink and the pair of french doors across the room. Our sink is full of dirty plates, glasses, and silverware. They have been there for days. But, I'm not going to do them – yet. My husband and I try to hold out as long as we can until the other takes responsibility and does whatever chore it is that we are putting off doing.

Birds are happily chirping outside the window. The smell of fresh paint is still thick in the air. I step across the kitchen and look in our plates and bowl cupboard. It's empty. With a sigh I grab a bowl from the sink and hand wash it. Sam doesn't have to know.

It's noon, I can't believe I had slept so long. As I absentmindedly wash my bowl something hits the window. I drop the bowl, startled. It sounded like a large rock had been thrown, hard, but the window is still intact. Almost immediately after I look up I feel a breath down my neck. I whip around, my hair standing on end and adrenaline pumping. No one is there.

Suddenly, something from the other room crashes down and shatters. I ignore my breakfast and walk into the living room. Sam's and my wedding photo is face down on the wood floor. Glass is everywhere. I pick the frame up and put it back on the mantel and go to find the broom and dustpan. I clean the glass up and throw the shards away. 

Ignoring the strange feeling I have, I grab my bowl again. I rinse it off, dry it and set it at our little table. From the pantry I grab a box of dry cereal and pour myself a bowl. Next, I go to the fridge for some milk. There is none. I sigh and slam the door. I sit down at the table with no milk and no spoon, and just begin to eat the cereal with my fingers.

Sam had left the paper for me. I smile and open it to the comics, the only page I actually care about. I laugh at “Blondie” and “Calvin and Hobbs” while eating my breakfast. Sam and I have been married for two years now. We had just celebrated our anniversary. About a year ago we had bought this house in South Carolina. It used to be a plantation. When we bought it, it was in no condition to live in. So, for a year, we have been fixing it up and finally moved in two weeks ago. This house is so beautiful, so historical. Sam and I are lucky to live in it. We got it for a bargain because it was so run down. We had added in indoor kitchen, heating and air conditioning, and indoor plumbing. Other than adding the essentials to modern life, we relatively left it alone.

I finish my comics the same time as my breakfast. I toss the bowl back into the sink and go upstairs to get ready for my day. My day will be me sitting around the house unpacking, but I still want to be dressed.

I run my fingers down the beautiful wood railing of the spiral stairs that lead up to the second floor from the foyer. Just as I reach the bottom of the stairs, the front door opens. It's Sam. My husband is standing their in his light green dentist scrubs.

“Well look who is rearing their handsome head around here again,” I laugh.

“Hello my love,” he walks over to me and hugs me.